“That’s because they want a chance to find out Who’s Who before taking one into their exclusive circles, I suppose,” Gloria remarked to Trixy, after listening for the best part of an hour to a report given by Janice. She had been asked by Jean’s contingent. She had the advantage of belonging to a family whose ancestral trees were knotted by colonial ties.
“But so far as I could gather,” scoffed Gloria, “it was an amateur fudge party, and the fudge got badly scorched, so I guess we didn’t miss much.”
“And, whereas it is against the rules to light little stoves in rooms, and the perpetrators are apt to be censured, I guess we are well out of it,” also scoffed Trixy.
“But they have to break rules, that’s the main idea,” Gloria explained. “Yet, it must have been pathetic to see the dear things trying to get fun out of the wicked pastime of making fudge on pin trays. I’d love to have had a view from a convenient distance.”
“We’ll see if we can’t hire the real kitchen, some evening,” suggested Trixy. “We’ll ask the faculty, invite them, I mean.”
“And all the kitchen staff,” added Gloria. “That would be fun. And the fudge will run a far greater chance of being fit to eat.”
This was held to be a brilliant idea and worth working out. So it happened that the domestic science class took on a new group of pupils unawares, and not only did Gloria and Trixy hold a fudge party in the kitchen a few afternoons later, as their part in the new year’s activity but the idea spread, until pop-corn drills and taffy pulls in the kitchen became almost common. Then it was that entertaining afterwards, in rooms, while despoiled of the precious rule breaking, offered real opportunities, and as a hostess Trixy became decidedly popular, while Gloria and Pat achieved marked success as floaters.
But such ordinary school happenings were mere calendar incidents, and like the calendar, interesting only to those who mark the days.